Details, details...

File under Major Blindspots - this article describes a study that finds the IUD the most effective method of emergency contraception, with a failure rate of 1 in 1000.  Great, but for emergency contraception (post-facto-ooops birth control)  the morning after pill does just fine for my money with a low 1 to 3% failure rate. The article states, despite the IUD's efficacy and safety, it is rarely recommended by clinicians for emergency contraception.  The reasons cited - it is not covered by insurance and it is not readily available.  Frankly, I'd add invasive to the list of why it's not a great option as a back-up option.  You have to get an IUD inserted through the vagina into the uterus.  A great long-term contraceptive method, but not super-appealing morning after plan B.

Didn't we just go through this in Virginia?

Please consider a donation to Planned Parenthood.

Old Boyfriend Tour

Yesterday morning, I had to drive from someplace to somewhere on I-495 - the 10-lane ring road that surrounds Washington, DC and connects its first-tier suburbs. As I whizzed passed the exits - Takoma Park...Silver Spring...Kensington...Bethesda - at nearly 80 mph, I thought of the once-boyfriend who lived there.  Our good times and our endings flashed through my mind; some sour feelings, but mostly warm ones washed over me.

And then a nerdy, bad pun entered my head, and the Old Boyfriend Tour screeched to a halt with a groan..."Notches in my Beltway"

Sex Ed

I'm not that much in the mood to write, but this is Important (and important to me)...

Last night's Glee episode (like most TV, I just read about it the next day, and then watch selected clips on the Internet) was the Sex Episode.  High school angst, high school sex - from sex education class to the Abstinence Club and the Gay-Straight Alliance, both found in today's high schools - but it's still the same old-fashioned, age-old teen angst.  And parents matter...a lot.  Perhaps the most touching, most compelling, most reach-inside-and-touch-your-soul scene was when Kurt, gay teen, and his dad have The Talk.

Wow...I hope you viewed that link.  I strongly believe in having comprehensive sex education in schools.  And I strongly believe that good (or bad) parenting makes the greatest difference in kids lives.  And somehow, this scene demonstrates all that for me.

I LOVE sex.  It feels so GOOD.  It's SO fun.  It's so easy.  But it's big, and it's more than all that.  There are health risks - some lasting.  And there are life-altering consequences, like pregnancy.  And these are wonderfully prevented and mitigated by birth control, condoms, and bit of honest discussion and some negotiation.  But at its best, and at its worse, it's about connection (or lack of it) and vulnerability (despite the fact that an orgasm can make you feel utterly invincible).  It's what it is to you, but also what it is to the other person - and figuring that out somehow for both of you, honestly.  And yes, sex does something to you - "..to your heart.  To your self-esteem...So don't throw yourself around like you don't matter.  Because you do matter"

No sentiment more true and more beautiful, about something so true, so beautiful.

DIPE brings out the skeptic in me...

For Actresses, Is a Big Appetite Part of the Show?  Absolutely, bring on the Oscar for BEST DIPE (Documented Instance of Public Eating, a fantastic term coined by film publicist, Jeremy Walker).  Essentially, actresses (or more accurately, their publicists) book interviews with journalists over lunch or dinner, and make a big display of ordering and eating and mentioning of their love for huge portions of highly caloric comfort food.   The actresses are usually young, thin, and HOT.

Seems like a big racket to me.  Eating with gusto suggests a large appetite for other things sensual, while dispelling any rumors of  an eating disorder, and keeping her mouth conveniently full during those pesky, probing questions.  A win-win-win, for the actress, at least.  The rest of us get taken.  I think it's shameless.

And the nominees are:

Drew Barrymore, in Harper's Bazaar: "I actually really love to lie in bed, watch TV, be a total sloth, and eat my favorite food: Kraft macaroni and cheese. Last night I was watching ‘The Next Food Network Star,’ eating mac and cheese, and feeling grand."


Mila Kunis, in Esquire: "This is a woman who, while watching ‘Super Size Me,’ had such a craving for McDonald’s, she had to pause the DVD in the middle and track down a Big Mac."


Padma Lakshmi, in Esquire: "I like the crispy, curly, crunchy, maple-coated, caramelized, blackened slowly kind of bacon on the back of a greasy grill at a five-dollar diner at 4:00 A.M."


Cate Blanchett, in Vogue:  "Blanchett announces that she’s famished and orders salmon and spinach, adding at the last second a side of Parmesan fried courgettes to start. A suggestion that we split the courgettes is met with uncertainty. 'I think we’d each better get our own,' she says, 'or things could get ugly.'"


These skinny, beautiful women have got some lusty appetites.  As for me, I'm not gonna bite.

2010: Year in Review, Part 3 Dear Daughter and other Loved Ones

Dear Daughter Seriously, I sometimes think I think my wonderful, thoughtful, giving, deeply insightful, kind, innocent six year-old daughter doesn't deserves a mother as flawed as I am.  I am in awe of her miraculousness.  I'm not the most maternal of women.  I would not be mistaken for a martyr.  I do not have infinite patience, endless capacity (or even desire), to nurture, boundless energy, and constant cheer.  I savor and pursue my adult life, sometimes at her expense.  I'm far from a helicopter mom or even a doting one.  My fuse can be short; my attention divided.  I sometimes half-jokingly refer to my mothering as "benevolent neglect" - that I hope will foster independence, scrappiness, and a provide a good adult women role model.  Despite my "bad mom" persona, I do make sure she always knows she is loved, safe, and secure. So far, so good...knock wood.

Quite honestly - between you and me -

2010: Year in Review, Part 2 - Men, Love , Sex and Ex

Life's Big Buckets in 2010, part 2 of three - This part is a Biggie - bigger than it should be, I'd think.  But what is Life without  Love?

Men, Sex, and Love - Or some combination thereof...sometimes.  The biggest trial of all.  As usual.  My half-full glass and pragmatic romantic view prevails.  It was a good year.  There was progress, there were setbacks; but more progress than setbacks.

As we entered 2010, I was enjoying a romantic interlude with Hiking Viking.  We seemed to be navigating our complexities and individual needs, desires, and directions well.  We were even growing closer and more emotionally intimate with whispers of sweet nothings and love.  Perhaps this was the harbinger - we really didn't belong in that territory, as lovely as it was - because CRASH!- BANG! -BOOM! we had some deep uglies suddenly and immediately afterward.  Uglies that left me reeling and confused, though in hindsight, it was more likely a necessary course correction.  We managed a bit more in a gentle, kind, supportive friendship - two people who seemed to get each other...with benefits.  But nice, and even right, as this was, it was  not safe or comfortable territory for me.  I tried to feel my way around this zone...but CRASH! BANG!  BOOM! in one of these (perhaps misguided)  conversations, I encountered anger, blame, vitriol - hurling accusations and spewing resentment - and our friendship was mutually declared over.  I have never in my life declared a friendship over - I've grown apart (sometimes intentionally); I've created space;  I've lost time and priority in friendships that had mutually served its purpose.  But I have never actively severed a friendship.  It left me reeling and destabilized again.  Another area, as the year closes, where I have found myself destabilized and second-guessing myself, and my mojo shaken.  Enough bandwidth...onward and upward.

Vegitect is a big character in this year's screen play.  Springtime, and all is possible.  New, green design gigs and newfound legs underneath himself made him ripe for romance when we met.  Here is an awesome man....witty, sexy, creative, handsome, and international.  :-) We found ourselves and each other in shared a passion for creativity in its infinite forms, and in our individual resilience always manifesting from the core.  Our compatibility and chemistry was notable.  I sometimes long for the promise of April - venturing to Paris with friends, and getting sweet, funny international text messages on l'autobus and brilliant sketched postcards for my birthday. But I feared... no, I knew... that he was not ready for involvement, and I told him as much, while I carefully skirted emotional attachment. Hell, I was so fuckin' prescient, I even wrote into My Main Gal Hax about the issue on an online discussions in June, that was later published in the Washington Post in September.  And prescient indeed... timing and time is important.  And as time passed, the messiness and acrimony of his divorce became more apparent, and the reality of throwing his dreams, drive and financial stake into a start-up in a crap economy became all-consuming.  It was a shit-storm in which I could not get sucked into the vortex, nor toss the life ring from the edge.  I have had my own shit-storm, and as recently emergent, I can say that life's personal shit-storms are best weathered independently.  But here and now, Dear Vegitect, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for your wit; your bizarre and endearing sense of irony; for sitting on my porch on early summer evenings talking with a bottle of chilled Spanish Cava or with sparklers in hand; for your photos, sketches, and sexy texts; for a well-planned mystery picnic; for teaching me the secrets of a perfectly fragrant and delicious daal; for the flowers; and for your continued friendship.  XO.

And while a few other minor characters made cameo appearances as love interests - one in particular that was not to be - it was a most of all a year of love and learning. And my learning has essentially led me to believe that it is timing that is mostly determinant, and that it takes time to see if love will stick among the competing vicissitudes.  And for the moment, I'm taking a chosen break, but surely not forever.

Irony  This was the year that I learned that Dear ex-Husband re-married.  I learned it on Facebook.  Two years after the fact.  This may well be my most mortifying and humbling moment.  I was enraged!  Anger and fury that I rarely feel, let alone express...but I did both to the fullest.  It felt amazing. But I know the source of my anger is also my disappointment, my sense of betrayal, and my sadness.  He and his wife are now expecting a baby any week now. And Dear Daughter suffers at the hands of an evil stepmother - it is not a cliche; she is a character study of immaturity, insecurity and passive-aggression. And Dear ex-Husband continues to make bad decisions that only spiral him downward, and his charm cannot save him anymore.  And the only good thing to come out of all his 2010 shenanigans is that I am freed of the horrible guilt and self-flaggelation for our failed marriage that I inflicted upon myself daily .    Did I make mistakes?  Yes.  Will I do things differently with my next partner/husband from the insight I have gained into (un)healthy, (dys)functional love and partnership?  Indeed, I fervently hope so.   Do I share the responsibility for our failure?  I do.  But I no longer blame myself.  There is nothing I could have done differently to save our marriage - as much as I tried and wished.  His latest antics are only proof that he could not and did not show up.  Not for me, and sadly, these days I worry, not even for himself.  And with all his hooey, I'm clearly, markedly, definitively better off without him.

2010: Year in Review, Part 1 - Work and Wealth

Overall, I'd declare this year Good overall, but most notably a year of Improvement and Progress.  :-)  For once, "most improved"doesn't feel like a consolation prize, but a hard-won, much-cherished feat.  The series of tragedies and bad news of years past have ebbed.  It was a welcome reprieve, and interestingly I noticed and appreciated the absence of constant losses and unheavals.  How often do we notice and appreciate that "nothing bad is happening" and therefore I am grateful?  Of course, I am grateful for the many good fortunes in my life this past year, and humbled by the setbacks.  Rather than a chronological review, this year I will examine Life's Big Buckets, and how each one fared.  This is a blog post in three parts (and some parts are a work in progress, as I continue to edit bit by bit).

Work - My job is demanding and stressful. At times, it can totally suck the life out of me.  For the better part of this year however, it sustained me and fulfilled me.  My boss, our CEO, announced her planned departure for early 2011, and this had some wonderful outcomes.  It was a great relief to know that a huge stressing, anxiety-producer will be releasing its grip.  Also, perhaps her own knowledge of her transition took some burden off her as well, because our relationship eased and became more trusting and respectful (for the most part).  Also, my ego was boosted, as both several members of our board and our funders saw me as a viable candidate to take on her role....but I am both smart and sane, and announced I would not be applying.  It was terrific to have the best of all worlds - good enough to do it, smart enough not to!

Sex Research

The results of a national sex research study were released today from Indiana University's Center for Sexual Health Promotion.  The findings are interesting, but not too shocking.  And phew! - it seems, I am, in fact, "normal."  The study was underwritten by Trojan, the condom company, and has the largest, most comprehensive sample size in almost 20 years, across a wide age range of 14 to 94 .  You can read it for yourself, but overall, it seems we're not doing so great on condom use (particularly among the 40+ age group), and we have a wide variety of sexual behaviors to keep ourselves and our partners happy.

I have always been interested in sex.  "Duh - who isn't?" you say.  But really, I am especially interested in sex - and not only from a personal pleasure point of view, but also from a sexual health perspective.  As a teenager, on Sunday nights, I'd listen to Dr Ruth (Westheimer) late into the night.  In high school, I bought the Shere Hite 500+ page report on female sexuality at a used bookstore.  In my early 20's, I was a Dr. Drew (Pinsky) fan on radio's Loveline, before he became famous on MTV.  And, as mentioned in a recent post, I am a savage fan of Savage Love by Dan Savage.  I stayed home one evening when I was 25, planning my night around a PBS documentary on Alfred Kinsey, underwritten by Hugh Hefner and the Ford Foundation :-).  The good people are My Heroes for being frank, direct role models and spokespeople for healthy, informed, consensual, positive, pleasurable, communicative sex.

I was a Planned Parenthood supporter, long before I had even been kissed.  In college, I was a family planning counselor.  In grad school, I studied public health, with a focus on Population and Family Health, now more commonly known and practiced as Reproductive and Sexual Health and Rights. In my career, I've worked on family planning and reproductive health programs.  And not so long ago, I even had to discuss anal sex in a job interview.

From my sub-conscious

I had an erotic dream about one of my colleagues last night.

M is beardless and on the shorter-than-average side - so not my natural "type."  Nonetheless,  I find his dorkiness charming, his humor sharp, and his intellect impressive - indeed, qualities that are part-and-parcel of my natural type. In real life, I enjoy our rapport and all his endearing qualities have led to a closeness and chemistry between us (the boundaries of work and his marriage are fully respected!), and which occasionally leads to some involuntary fantasizing (on my part, at least) during management meetings.  We have been working particularly closely together recently, including a nice business dinner the other evening with a third party with delicious food and wine, and delightful conversation.   And last night, the whole thing played out in my sub-conscious...

Sex Bomb, Mom, and Senior Strategist

Work has been intense lately.  A good intense, I guess, as I'm working on stuff that really excites me.  But also draining.  I have very little energy left each day to write or laugh.  Or do other things that make me a healthy, happy me.  On days like this, I long for simplicity.  I long for an end to the requests and demands.  A day of quiet.  A day of solitude.  A day without worries.

I took a swim this morning, as part of the Sanity Plan.  I've had so little time for this critical activity that keeps my stress down, my thoughts worked through and put away.  It worked.  I left for work this morning with energy and sass.  I bounded up escalator steps.  What?!?!  Bounded?!?  Up??!?! The escalator?  To go to work?

My energy lasted until around noon, and then the day wore me down in the way it has these last few weeks.  By the end of the day, I was frayed.  Tightly wound.  Completely wrung-out.

And now, I'm still frayed.  And tired.  And not just physically tired.  Or mentally tired.  But tired of this stupid treadmill.  Burned out from the slog.  Tired, perhaps, of being all things to all people.  Sex Bomb, Mom & Senior Strategist.  Tired of taking care of everyone.  I try to take care of myself - and sometimes I succeed, but lately, it's been hard (Bummer, for real.  I was getting so good at it!)

And sometimes, I want someone else to take care of it all.  Or at least just share the load.  And every once in a while take care of me...."Honey, what do you need?"  Or better yet, "I did this for you."  And I want to cry (like I am now) and lean in, lean against him and just sob for a few minutes.  "I'm tired," I'd say.  "It's not that easy."

Ground-breaking gamechanger for women's health

At the International AIDS Conference in Vienna promising results were shared from a clinical trial of a microbicide to be used by women for HIV prevention.  This is great news indeed.  Since the beginning of the epidemic, one of the frustrating things has been that a woman has no way to protect herself from HIV infection without depending on her partner in some way.  All three methods of HIV prevention require some degree of cooperation from her guy:

• condom use - ultimately it's his call; 
• mutual monogamy between two HIV-negative partners  - again, she can be as monogamous as she wants, but it won't necessarily protect her if he is not - and vice versa, of course, though sadly the monogamy deck is stacked against her in many cultures and countries where there is high HIV prevalence; and 
• abstinence  - well, we all know how that goes! - not only is it exceedingly challenging between two people with any sort of chemistry and hormones, it's really a non-starter for many woman (and of course, in the case of rape, coerced and otherwise involuntary sex).  In places like Africa, where HIV prevalence is high, partner communication is low, and pressure for married couples to make babies is strong, the notion of refusing sex or insisting on condom use, even if she perhaps suspects he may be infected or at risk, in a marriage setting just won't fly

So where does that leave a woman in Johannesburg where HIV infection is 18% (or anywhere else for that matter)?  Up the creek without a paddle in terms of taking control of her health and life, with any sort of viable option to protect herself from HIV infection.  An effective microbicide could change that.

Clinical trials for microbicides (vaginal gels that can be applied to neutralize the virus and protect from infection) have been going on for years have had mixed results, at best. The news of this study is ground-breaking and could change the HIV prevention landscape.   In this particular clinical trial in South Africa, prevention of transmission os not 100% failsafe, only significantly reduced.  Researchers want to improve the efficacy, continue with additional trials, and if viable, get this thing to market ASAP.

Fabulous news! (Sometimes I miss practicing public health).

observatrice exhibitioniste voyeuse

Drawing the bath, she walked naked along the perimeter of the room tending to things.  The curtains of the large windows were open to the anonymous city outside.  This quiet, dead-end street had few passers-by, and housed a small cafe with about five occupied tables this evening and a hotel across the street.  Most of those rooms were quiet - either dark or curtains drawn with hints of light around the edges, sometimes bluish - hinting at the residents inside and their televisions.

One room directly across, and just slightly down a level had some movement in it.  A couple had entered from their evening out, and were settling in for the night.  The bedside table light was on and the curtains were open, as they each went about readying for sleep.  The man was in his early 50's, dark hair, glasses - definitely European, as evidenced by the shape of his glasses; his casual, but polished, style; and graceful, distinguished ageing.  As the wife disappeared into the bathroom, he removed his pants and sweater, leaving on a white button-down shirt and dark briefs.  He sat on the edge of the bed - his side - and looked out the window.

Aware she could be seen, the bather approached the window, and looked outside into the night towards the sky, as if contemplating tomorrow's weather.  The windowsill came to about the level of her hips baring her upper torso - breasts most prominently on display, hair pulled back in a loose twist, with strands  astray falling about her face, the curve of her hips and ass.  She turned towards the closet just beside the window and opened it, her body still visible in profile.  She pretended to look for something, perhaps tomorrow's clothes - she bent down towards the shoes, stretched upwards towards the tee-shirt sitting on the closet shelf.  She turned back toward the window, and they looked straight at each other.

She left the window, busied herself again about the room, turned off the bathwater - it could wait -and considered her next move.  She adjusted the lighting in the room to create balance of both shadows and visibility, and walked back towards the window.  Again, he looked out as her figure darkened the window frame.  She glanced towards him and pretended not to notice, as she again contemplated the sky, then the cafe down below, and the closet.  He remained looking out right towards her window, but also made no acknowledgment of her presence.  Unable to linger any longer, and not sure what to do next, she busied herself about the room - arranging the papers and magazines, pouring a glass of water.

A few moments later, she returned to her windowside perch.  He was lying in bed, now wearing a charcoal grey tee, reading a book, the sheets were pulled across his thighs.  His wife was now beside him, alike, except in a light blue tee, also reading a book.  They mirrored each other in their bedside reading.  The lone bather looked out, and saw him look away from his book and towards her window.  She wondered if - she hoped- he was sufficiently distracted to perhaps kiss his wife good night and run his hand along her thigh - an advance - and then she could watch their coupling.  The bather and the reader did their rounds a few more times - she leaving her window, returning, he glancing away from his book towards her - but both he and his wife never left their reading positions, and eventually the game of the bather and the handsome stranger ran its course.

The bather was disappointed he hadn't touched his wife.  Or perhaps, if their life was how she grimly imagined, they couldn't remember the last time they made love, even vacation sex, and the wife would have been surprised by his move or rebuffed him.  Or perhaps he was not prepared with his Viagra.  Had she been more bold, or even slightly more practiced at nude city-night people-watching (perhaps even next time), the bather might have lingered longer and more purposefully at the window, leaning in to look up the street toward the corner, or even ran her hand along her sides, and absentmindedly touched her breasts, even traced her nipples - as if he had caught her in a private reverie - as if.  Perhaps, if this were true Penthouse letters, she would have been brasher still - directly acknowledging him, letting her hands wander more deliberately, or even signaled to him to make a move on his wife, so she could watch for all of their excitement.  But not that either, and likely not that ever.

Following her bath, in which her mind wandered to the possibilities and pondered the thoughts of the man across the street, she, too, put on her bed clothes - a navy tee, and loose cotton pants, no underwear, and slept with the light sheet twisted around her body.  She awoke in the early morning light, the curtains were still open, and looked across the street.  They were both sleeping.  A few minutes later, he was reading and she had left the bed.  In the broad daylight, her presence at the window did not change anything like it had in the night lights.  She readied herself for the day, and when she looked out the window again before heading for breakfast, they were both gone.

La Nouvelle Observatrice - Sports Section: USA vs. Ghana

USA played Ghana over the weekend for a disappointing 2-1 loss for our stars and stripes.  It was a great game, and I will give some of my novice observations here, albeit likely sub-consciously lifted from the commentator, and subtly influenced and validated by JS.

Ghana played a very tight game for a well-deserved win.  Our guys in the US are strong, solid, experienced players, and I have nothing but respect and admiration for their level of performance.  Maybe they "woulda, coulda" won the match, but admittedly not "shoulda" won because there were no horrific faulty calls, their one goal was a penalty kick, and Ghana played them strong.

First, our guys....I'm impressed with Feilhaber, who while not a starter was subbed in after the first half and really played hard and well.  He really showed up for the World Cup, and given more of a chance might have had an impressive performance. He had some good time with the ball and worked for the team.  Dempsey was also strong; and sports some very cute facial scruff.  Altidore has what it takes, and played well; Jozy Altidore is a good soccer name.  Bornstein was solid, but I sensed under-performing.  Edu and Buddle registered on my not-very- finely-tuned screen.  Donavan is a superstar.  Clearly, he is the celebrity of the team.  Most of that is deserved - he is amazing, he carries the day, he is a Soccer God.  But more importantly, it's nice to see his confident humility off the field.  I don't know much about him before, but it seems his arrogance has mellowed, and his maturity bloomed since the last World Cup in 2006.  He's good, he's really good, and he knows it - but he seems to recognize his own (and more broadly, one's own) fallibility, and that nothing, not even a winning streak fueled by innate talent cultivated with tough training, is a given.  I really hope things work out with his wife from whom he is currently separated, but perhaps reconciling (See Bianca).  Nice sportsman, Donavan!  And perhaps a nice soccer Love Story to boot - my kind of World Cup!

Now, Ghana...It's nice to see Africa with a strong showing on the home continent.  Africa, it seems, has an uphill battle, with just about everything.  Every win for Africa is all the more meaningful, because it is not only what Africa has achieved, but also what it has overcome.  It is a sweeter victory.  As mentioned, Ghana played a beautiful game. As a casual fan, I was impressed with their control of the ball and of the game, their tight, accurate passing and plays, and very nice technical skills.  It was interesting to hear from the commentator that Ghana has the youngest team playing in the World Cup, with an average age of 25.  To use a virility metaphor, this may be indeed the key to their success.  Team Ghana, it seems has the power, the explosiveness and the stamina of a young 25 year-old stud; yet despite their youth, surprisingly also has the discipline, control, patience, form, and self-possession of a more seasoned and skilled lover a few decades older.  That lovely balance is hard to find both on and off the soccer field.

From my sub-conscious - XXX

I've had three vivid and whack dreams in the last two nights.   One I don't remember, another was work-related.  The third was pretty much a porn flick in my head, and I was the porn star:-)  Very vivid, very graphic, very steamy.  I can rewind part of the dream in my head, and re-play.  Very nice.  :-)

Food porn

Lenôtre, Paris

Lebanese Taverna

"Following her lead, I took a corner of warm bread, rolled it into a cone (a nifty trick for scooping up dips) and tasted. It was excellent: lush, mouth-filling, creamy and flavorful — like an earthy milkshake."

I can't help but smile here at this description of eating hummus in Beirut.  I'm preparing for my own trip there, leaving this weekend.  I enjoyed a tasty dinner at the local Lebanese Taverna with JS yesterday evening. And this appeals to all my senses.

Here's the food porn link.

Yay.

Blogging while intoxicated

The clucks have all left.  Dinner was delish.  I enjoyed cooking and hosting it, a moment when I'm happiest.   The carrot soup with orange essence and tarragon was quite scrumptious; the rest I would happily twiddle with.

Someone said I set the bar high when I brought out the Veuve Cliquot at dessert.  Not really, it felt good...and this bottle brought to me by Nan and Megan on my 39th b-day was especially good.  "I'll drink this, " I said, "for something to celebrate  in the next year."  [If you remember, dear reader (see year in review 2009), I was still crying a river of tears at that time, including at my b-day party surrounded by good friends, good people, good things, good food, when I briefly broke down for all that I faced and lived on that day.]  And while I have celebrated several good times and events since then, I chose to open the VC now, to celebrate with my good and lasting 12 cluck friends, for no and every reason, in particular:

- To good friends, laughter, cooking,
- To dedicating time to happiness,
- To the end of 2009 and the beginning of 2010 - where I wonder and marvel at what awaits, at what I do not yet know
-To finding a spiritual home, I didn't even know I was lacking,  at All Souls Church
- To the benefits and after effects of swimming - its peace, sanity and health
- To embracing my lusciousness, at long wonderful last
- To turning 40 in 2010, and while my life is not as glossy as at 30, it has, right now, a remarkable embrace that comes from being happy here and now, and to realizing that even my bittersweet happiness is somehow more fulfilling and meaningful having overcome so many trials, as when it was wide open and limitless
-To sex in all its marvelousness
- To having,  holding, giving, and getting love for however long it lasts

I [HEART] beards

Brad Pitt is sporting some scraggly facial hair, and I've noticed a few handsome men around with some scragg, so before it’s the next big thing and Cosmo does a cover story, I just want to put on record that I *really* like beards.

So soft, bristly and scratchy. Lovely texture on the face. A little decoration. Very tactile and sensual. A certain edge (and edging). And sexy is, as sexy does, a beard has a lovely framing function – like pubic hair – except around the mouth (…and lips…tongue) and going on up toward the earlobe. And oh….the scent!…cologne, sweat, or best of all - just plain, old, delicious scent de sex. Trapped in the beards fibers, ready to be ruffled lightly, to inhale and intake. A little extra tickle, in the kisses.

Mmmmmm…mmmm… beards!